


That's A Pretty Name

by theshipshipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy!Jon, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipshipper/pseuds/theshipshipper
Summary: "What's your name?" The little boy asked curiously.Sansa," she tells him with a slight smile, which only grows when he grins back at her, his eyes wrinkling on the corner in an achingly familiar way."That's a pretty name," he tells her earnestly. "I'm Willem."Sansa's heart skips a beat at the compliment, thoughts instantly wandering to years and years ago, to a memory of a little girl teaching a boy to say the same thing.





	1. Who's Your Muse?

**Author's Note:**

> I took the inspiration of writing this from the books when Jon complimented Gilly's name just like Sansa taught him to. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

Sansa scowled as soon as she saw the front page of _The Westerosi_ , which Arya helpfully dropped on the table right in front of her - directly on top of her sketch pad.

Plastered on the front page was the overused picture of her and Joff posing for the red carpet. The only difference with this version of the photo is the edited tear between the two of them, emphasizing their broken engagement.

She let her eyes roam the headline, intrigued in spite of herself, " _It-Couple Calls it Quit -- Third Party Involved?_ " and that was enough to make her stomach flip in anxiety.

"You're not going to read it?" Arya asked her when she doesn't make a move to open the paper.

She doesn't even have to ask to know that her sister has already read whatever is written about her - and based on her obvious disgust, Sansa would definitely not like whatever it is. So, no, she really doesn't want to.

Whatever it is, it can't hurt her anymore. She already made it out of King's Landing, there's no reason to dwell on what kind of hell some rumor can bring her now. So long as she's out of King's Landing, she thinks that it can't really do much harm.

"I don't know how you managed to live through all that bullshit in the South for eight years." Arya muttered, glaring at the newspaper as if she's waiting for it to burst into flames from sheer will.

Truth be told, Sansa doesn't know the answer to that either. She's honestly just relieved to be done with all of it.

"It doesn't matter," she decided to say, trying to avoid the topic. It won't do her much good to dwell on it. "I'm just glad to be home."

While she isn't lying about that, there's still some part of her that's anxiously waiting for everything to go wrong - maybe wake up and find out that it's all just a dream and she's back in King's Landing with Joffrey and Cersei and Petyr and -

"I think I'm going for a walk," she told Arya quietly, moving to grab her sketch pad underneath the newspaper. "I need some air."

She inhaled the cool northern breeze as soon as she got out of Arya's apartment, feeling lighter than she's been in months. She'd only gotten back home two days ago, but shems already starting to feel more and more at ease the longer she stays here.

It felt good to just walk around a little bit, re-acquainting herself with the familiar streets she's known all her life, and let the cold seep into her skin as she does. The South was always too hot and humid and just generally suffocating that the cold is a welcome change. She'd forgotten how good it feels to breathe.

She somehow ended up at the Wolfswood Park, seated on one of the empty benches at the center of the park near where the hiking trails starts. She has her sketch pad perched on top of her lap, the page of the draft of her latest sketches for her current project opened.

She doesn't notice the little boy sitting on the bench next to hers as she fixed her sketches until she looked up to catch her breath. She'd just finished the final touches on her designs, all she has to do now is scan it to her laptop and color it before sending it to Marge. She could probably head home now and do it, and she'd be able to send it before dinner.

But the day is nice, the weather just right - perfect in the North, and she thinks it'd be fine to linger at the park for a little while longer. After all, she did come back to Winterfell to catch a break.

She looked around the area, mildly crowded on a summer day, and she could see a few familiar faces - people she's known of while growing up in the small town of Winterfell, and she revels in the familiarity of it all.

Somehow she still finds herself glancing back at the boy on the next bench, sitting right next to who she assumes is his mother.

He averts his gaze quickly when he sees her looking, and she had to supress a smile.

He's a cute little boy, with his curly red hair sticking out in every which way. And there's something oddly familiar about how melancholic he looks that she finds herself flipping to a blank page on her pad to draw on, unable to push the thought away.

Except, the more she kept sketching, the less it looked like the boy and more of a different person, one from her distant memories. She hasn't thought of Jon Snow in years, which is why she's surprised to find herself drawing him, or what she remembers of him, and she gets so absorbed with what she's doing that she doesn't even notice the boy making his way over to her.

"Is that supposed to be me?" He asked, startling Sansa out of the trance she was in.

"Um, no," she says, not really lying. 

She turned to look where his mother had gone to for him to go over to her. She was still sitting on their bench though, and the woman directs a strained smile to her - one she returns with a little more ease before turning her attention back to the boy who's eyeing her work critically.

"That's good," he said thoughfully, sitting next to her. "because it doesn't look like me." His gaze shifts to her, the same critical expression intact. "But I think I've seen you before."

She assumes it's okay to talk to him since his mother hasn't called him back yet so she smiled at him and replied, "Probably not. How old are you?"

"Seven," he said, raising seven fingers to her. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I moved away from here eight years ago, so I don't think you've seen me before." She explained slowly. "I only just moved back."

"Oh," he said, face a little deflated at that before lighting up again. "Well, where did you move? My dad and I just moved here too, last year, from Queenscrown."

"I moved from King's Landing," she told him, and his frown deepens.

"That's too far," he complained and then considers it a moment. "I think I know where I've seen you, though. In a picture or something."

The smile on her lips dies almost instantly. He probably means the tabloid, which isn't really something she wanted to remember right this moment.

"Yeah, probably," she said, a little distractedly.

"What's your name?" The little boy asked, taking back her attention before she could drown in her own thoughts again, like she keeps doing these days.

It's difficult not to keep re-evaluating her life and trying to pinpoint at which part it all turned to hell. There are too many possible answers to that and so the cycle never ends.

"Sansa," she tells him with a slight smile, which only grows when he grins back at her, his eyes wrinkling on the corner in an achingly familiar way.

"That's a pretty name," he tells her earnestly. "I'm Willem."

Sansa's heart skips a beat at the compliment, thoughts instantly wandering to years and years ago, to a memory of a little girl teaching a boy to say the same thing.

  
\------

  
_Sansa sighed in disappointment, shaking her head in frustration as she strode to Jon Snow's side._

_"You should compliment her on her name," She told him with a brittle tone, which he doesn't notice - too busy being oblivious. She steels her face before he slowly turns to her, putting on a mask of aloofness she did not actually feel as he finally realized that she's standing right there._

_"What?" He spluttered in surprise, pretending as if he wasn't just obviously staring after Val as she disappeared into a distance._

_"Tell her that her name is pretty," She said slowly, and it honestly physically pains her to do so._

_He's an idiot, she knows, and yet for some reason, she's still attracted to him. Odd._

_Jon blinked up at her as if he can't comprehend - and honestly, why is that making her feel weird things in her stomach? It doesn't make sense - and she merely rolls her eyes at him, because she's great at pretending she feels none of these things._

_"Tell her her name's..." He's speaking like he's trying to make sense of the words, and then he gives her a bright smile, "Right." He gives her a half hug before running off, shouting, "I'll do that. Thanks Sansa," as he goes._

_She sighed dramatically, wondering why on earth she even thought to help him. She doesn't even think Val is an overly pretty name._

_Sansa's a pretty name, she thinks bitterly, he could've told her that._

_Ugh. Boys._


	2. Fools In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What did you and your mom talk about?" He asked lightly, pretending he didn't already know. Of course, Willem would see through it, but it seemed like the polite option.
> 
> Willem gives him an unimpressed look, and instead of answering, he asks, "are you okay with it? Mom getting married? You're not sad at all?"
> 
> Jon stifled a smile, ruffling his son's hair, more out of habit than anything. Of course he would be worried about him, like that's the issue here.

Jon watched Willen enter the coffee shop with furrowed brows, surprised at the sight of the biggest smile on his son's face. He'd been expecting Will to be crestfallen at the news of his mother's impending marriage, not... happy.

Not that he would have wanted his son to be sad rather than happy - he definitely prefers his son to be happy all the time - it's just weird and unexpected, is all.

He looked at Ygritte in confusion as she trailed behind their seven-year-old, and she merely shrugged in response to his unspoken question.

"Dad, look," Willem said, bouncing up to the booth he's sitting in. Will placed a piece of paper on top of his folders on the table, grinning widely up at him.

Jon turned his attention on the paper, surprised to see a drawing of a green dragon with bronze scales and yellow wings, like Rhaegal, the dragon in the stories Will loved so much.

"Wow," he said, sincerely amazed. The details are extremely intricate and so unlike anything he's seen, somehow managing to make the dragon look realistic without it being scarily ugly - like he assume dragons actually are. Whoever made it is really talended. "Where did you get it?"

"Someone made it for me," he said happily, grinning so widely at it. "Can I show it off to Olly?"

Jon chuckled, handing the drawing back to him. "Go ahead, just don't bother him when there's a customer, okay?"

"Okay," Willem piped up, running up to the counter where Olly's manning the register, and Jon waits until he's sure Willem can't hear them anymore before narrowing his eyes at his ex-wife.

"Did you actually tell him?" He asked in suspicion. "I told you, you can't just not tell him about getting married, it's better - "

"I told him, Jon," she said with an aggravated sigh, slipping into the chair across him.

He frowned disbelievingly, "what'd he say?"

"Nothing. He said nothing," she admitted, looking frustrated. "He takes after his father."

Jon raised an eyebrow at that. "I told you I'm happy for you," He pointed out.

"I meant in general," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You don't really say much about how you feel and he's exactly the same." Her gaze softens when it lands back to Will. "Do you think he's okay with it?"

Jon let out a deep breath, looking at his son thoughtfully. "He'd tell you if he wasn't."

Ygritte nodded, though she looks unconvinced.

She leaves after a while, telling them that she has a long drive ahead and should get going. She promised Will that she'd come back in a few weeks to bring him to Queenscrown for a visit and they talk about it a little before she finally goes.

Willem stills seem happy, and Jon's grateful, really, but he can't help feeling that he might just be putting on a show for them. His son is oddly perceptive beyond his years.

When Will slides into the booth he's in, placing the drawing gingerly on the table as well as a couple pieces of blank papers and a pencil, Jon takes the opportunity to talk.

"What did you and your mom talk about?" He asked lightly, pretending he didn't already know. Of course, Willem would see through it, but it seemed like the polite option.

Willem gives him an unimpressed look, and instead of answering, he asks, "are you okay with it? Mom getting married? You're not sad at all?"

Jon stifled a smile, ruffling his son's hair, more out of habit than anything. Of course he would be worried about him, like that's the issue here.

"I'm happy for your mom, I promise." He assured.

He nodded in agreement, "yeah, I guess I am too."

Then after a second, he picked up his pencil and started sketching, apparently done with the conversation. Before Jon could go back to finishing what he was doing, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

 **Arya**  
Whatcha doing tonight?

 **Jon**  
Nothing important, why?

 **Arya**  
Party at the big house  
And before you say no, keep in mind that a certain red-head will be there  
I'm talking about SANSA  
The party is for her  
And I KNOW you want to see her

Jon paused at that, he does want to see Sansa. If only because he hasn't seen her in a long time. Definitely not because he's had the biggest crush on her when he was younger.

Who was he kidding, though? In the rare times that he let himself think of how different his life would've been if he'd stayed in Winterfell all those years ago, he always imagined her in it. Logically, he knows that even if he'd stayed, Sansa would still have left for King's Landing, but he just can't imagine Winterfell without her in it, and so he doesn't.

So of course he tells Arya that he'll be there, and Arya replies with about two dozen of that 'tears of joy' emoji as a way to mock him in the twenty-first century.

"Will, Arya's throwing a welcome back party for her sister later. Do you want to come and hang put with Uncle Rickon?"

Will looked up, confusion written on his face. "Aunt Arya has a sister?"

Jon grinned at his kid calling Arya his aunt. While the rest of the Starks have asked him to call them uncle, or grandpa and grandma - "You're family, Jon," Ned had insisted when he was about to argue - Arya refuses to join in, claiming that it makes her sound so old.

Obviously, Will still calls her aunt despite her request, just not to her face.

"Yeah, she does have an older sister. She just came home, actually," Jon answered. "You want to come meet her?"

He nodded. "Yeah, definitely. You think she'll like this dragon?" Will pointed at his drawing thoughtfully.

Jon looked at him quizically. "Why?"

"Well, we should give her a welcome gift, right? Like Grandpa Ned did when we came here."

Jon grinned at him, ruffling his hair fondly. "Yeah, she'll love the dragon."

Now that it's all set, he starts to feel giddy with the prospect of seeing Sansa Stark again after all these years. He'd seen a couple of her pictures on the paper and occasionally on the television - and even some on the internet, but somehow when he thinks of her, he always imagines her as the bossy eighteen year old he'd last seen her as.

He leaned on his knuckles, settling to watch his son trying to re-create the dragon, and it somehow reminds him of Sansa, always carrying her sketch pad around, ready to draw whatever it is she finds interesting.

  
\----

  
_"That looks amazing," Jon said, complimenting the drawing Sansa's currently working on._

_She's sitting on one of the counter stools in the kitchen so he took the other empty one, directly next to her, and sat on it nervously._

_She narrowed her eyes at his comment, as if thinking he's somehow making fun of her. He feels slightly offended, aware that she must not have a very high opinion on her older brother's friends. He knows that the other boys love messing around, but he didn't really want her thinking he'd mess with her._

_Not just because she's his best friend's younger sister, but also because he has a stupidly huge crush on her._

_"What do you want?" She asked skeptically, looking at him in suspicion._

_"Um, I uh - " he swallowed thickly, hoping that this is a good idea. "Well, I was kind of hoping you'd help me, like, talk to girls."_

_He flushed, looking away from her. It's the best excuse he could come up with to spend some time with her. They don't really have much in common that he could use as an excuse, so if he wanted to hang out with her, he has to come up with something ridiculous enough that she'd feel sorry for him to help. Namely, being hopelessly clueless about girls._

_And he really is clueless, so he figures it would take a while for her to teach him everything, if she chooses to do so._

_He might not have thought of this well enough but it's not like he had plenty of ideas to begin with. What he does know is that she likes to tease Robb about his valiant - but admittedly ridiculous - attempts at trying to woo Jeyne Westerling, claiming that she'd help her brother out if he'd just ask, and he figured he could make use of that information somehow._

_"Who do you want to talk to?" She asked curiously, though her voice is a little sharp._

_"Um," he tries to come up with an answer other than 'you', and finds himself saying, "Val Forrester."_

_It's the first name that pops into his brain, what with how much Robb and the guys tease him about her, but he doesn't actually have a thing for her._

_She huffed, frowning at her work. "So you don't actually think my drawing is amazing, do you? You just wanted my help with something?"_

_"No, no -" he winced, hoping that this is proof enough that he does actually need help. "No, I meant - I do actually like your drawing. Very much." He takes note of the motley armor on the knight, and he hazards a guess, "It's Florian the Fool, isn't it?"_

_Sansa's lips quirk up in satisfaction, making his insides flutter weirdly. "It is," she confirmed happily, "Have you read about him?"_

_He nodded in reply. "Florian's one of my favorites from the Age of Heroes," he admitted, and then proceeded to quote the book as proof, "As great a fool as ever lived, and as great a knight as well."_

_Sansa beamed up at him, and he thinks maybe they have some things in common after all. He'd like to know if they have other similarities aside from that._

_She suddenly tore the page off her sketch pad and hands it to him with a smile. "You can have it," she said, and then adds, tentative, "and I'll help you."_

 


	3. Obviously Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she chances a glance on her tablet, Marge is just staring at her, wholly unimpressed while simultaneously seemeing judgemental. And just like anyone who sees that expression on her face, Sansa falters.
> 
> "Fine," she relented exasperatedly, to which Marge immediately grinned at. "There might be someone I'm expecting to see."
> 
> "Interesting," Marge drawls on, sounding like she'd already guessed it. "Do tell."
> 
> Sansa sighed in resignation. "It's this guy I've had a crush on when I was younger. It's not a big deal, it's just - he was my brother's best friend so I'm like a little sister to him, you know, and I guess I just - "
> 
> "Want to show him that you're not so little anymore?" Marge finished suggestively for her, eyebrow raised in amusement, and Sansa grinned mischievously on the camera.
> 
> "Something like that," she agreed.

Sansa sat in front of her vanity, frustrated beyond disbelief, as she wiped the make up off her face for the third time now. Somehow, she just can't get it right. It's either too little or too much or just plain wrong.

She huffed in irritation, moving to start all over again. On one side of her dresser stands her tablet, with her best friend, Margaery, watching her in amusement through their on-going video call.

"Honestly, darling, I don't understand why you're stressing out about this _party_." She says the last part like it physically pains her, because she thinks calling it a party is questionable. "It's just a small gathering of all your closest friends and family, excluding me obviously, and it sounds drab, so I don't see what all the fuss is about." There's a familiar tilt to Marge's voice that makes Sansa intentionally avoid looking at the screen. "Unless there's a tiny little detail you've failed to mention?"

Sansa tried to keep a straight face, pretending to be too absorbed with what she's doing to have noticed anything Marge had said. She'd called her best friend over two hours ago out of sheer desperation. Before the problem with her make-up arose, she was already stressing out on what to wear. To a party at her backyard. With only her closest family and friends in attendance.

It was completely ridiculous and she knows it's not a big deal, but there's one guest in particular she's doing this all for.

Somehow in the last twelve months, even with a regularly scheduled skype session every other Friday, Arya failed to mention that Jon Snow, the boy she'd had the biggest crush on - she never actually told any of her siblings that but she assumes they figured it out - moved back to Winterfell, and only remembers to mention it while listing off people who's coming for their little gathering.

It had taken her by surprise and had completely mangled her composure. Thinking of Jon Snow made her feel like the pathetic twelve-year-old she used to be, trying to subtly trail after her brother's cute best friend everywhere he went. It's extremely embarrassing, honestly.

It's not that she still has a thing for Jon and nor is she still waiting for something to happen - it's been eight years, she's not that delusional - she just wants to impress him for some odd reason.

It's that lingering desire for a crush to notice you. She figured he'd always thought of her as his best friend's annoying little sister and she just sort of wants to let him know that she's grown out of that.

That she's turned into a fully functional adult who is open to dating a certain brooding brother's best friend that she might've had a crush on since she was ten. Just, you know, if that certain someone is interested.

So, clearly, Arya is to blame for what a mess she'd become upon finding out.

When she chances a glance on her tablet, Marge is just staring at her, wholly unimpressed while simultaneously seemeing judgemental. And just like anyone who sees that expression on her face, Sansa falters.

"Fine," she relented exasperatedly, to which Marge immediately grinned at. "There might be someone I'm expecting to see."

"Interesting," Marge drawls on, sounding like she'd already guessed it. "Do tell."

Sansa sighed in resignation. "It's this guy I've had a crush on when I was younger. It's not a big deal, it's just - he was my brother's best friend so I'm like a little sister to him, you know, and I guess I just - "

"Want to show him that you're not so little anymore?" Marge finished suggestively for her, eyebrow raised in amusement, and Sansa grinned mischievously on the camera.

"Something like that," she agreed.

In the eight years that Sansa's lived in King's Landing, meeting one devious man to the next, she's learned to master the art of hiding her emotions and yet, when she'd found out that Jon is not only back but also has a kid, she was a little late in hiding her disbelief. And, honestly, how was she supposed to hide her emotion when it took her so completely by surprise.

She was sitting on one of the sun loungers by the pool on their backyard, chatting happily with Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole - with Theon butting in every so often - when her father, who's in charge of the barbecue, suddenly said, so cheerfully, that, "there's my favorite grandson!"

Sansa's head instantly whipped to her father, who has an openly happy expression on his face that she even paused to think if any of her siblings actually has a kid they haven't mentioned. Apparently, they're _not_ mentioning all kinds of things to Sansa today.

She followed her father's gaze to the back gate, only half aware that Jeyne's still talking to her, and her eyes lands on a cute little boy with a mop of red hair and -

It's the same boy she's seen earlier today. Willem, his name was, and for some reason it just never occured to her that he might've looked familiar for a reason. That her father would even go as far as calling him his grandson.

Her gaze shifts from the little boy to the man standing behind him, and sure enough, it's Jon, the both of them looking at her with a polite smile.

Ned calls for her, already at Jon's side, and she sauntered off to them, pretending to be unfazed as she forced a smile onto her face.

"Hey, Sansa, welcome back," Jon greets, a little awkward, when she gets close enough for a quick hug.

She sucked in a deep breath, letting her smile grow. "Hey Jon, long time no see," she said easily, before turning her attention to his son. Apparently, kids are much easier to deal with than long-time crushes who is also said kid's father. "Hey Willem."

Willem gave her a toothy grin, "Hey Sansa!" And then, affer a beat he frowns, cheeks reddening a little bit, and looks at Jon like he's trapped in the headlights.

Jon mirrors the frown on his face and then leans down for Willem to whisper to him. They whisper to each other back and forth for a short moment and Sansa can't stop herself from really smiling this time at how adorable they look.

Finally, Jon stood straight again, like they've come to an agreement and says, "Willem has something for you."

She raised an eyebrow in intrigue, looking back at Willem. "Really?" She asked, crouching down, very primly, so they're at eye level.

Willem nodded, and hands her a piece of paper. She opens it gently, an odd tug at her heart from the nice gesture, and she sees a drawing of a green dragon, a replica of the one she'd given him hours previous.

She beamed at him, completely blown away at the effort to copy her drawing, like she'd told him to do so he'd learn to draw the dragon himself, as it was apparently his favorite. She can see that he really tried is best and it's not bad at all.

"Wow, this is amazing!" She gushed, and slowly, Willem gives her his own tentative smile.

"Really?" He asked hopefully, and he's such an adorable kid that she feels bad for feeling so weird about the whole situation.

It's not him, not really, it's just disconcerting to get this much new unexpected information in a day. She's usually good at that, having learned in King's Landing to accept new information in a stride, but she's not really expecting to have to do it here.

"Yeah, it really is," She agreed, ruffling his hair instinctively. "Thank you, Willem."

Willem gives her another toothy grin, satisfied with her answer, and then looks at his dad happily. Sansa does the same and is caught off guard to find Jon already looking back at her.

"You look pretty," he said, cheeks reddening a bit, in a similar way to his son's, and she has to duck her head to hide her smile.

"Thank you, Jon," she said, and then waves them into the backyard. She didn't even notice her father leaving them. "You guys should eat, I'll catch up with you after."

She blew out a big breath when they do leave for food and pretends not to notice Arya coming over to her for a full second before giving up.  
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, almost whiningly, when Arya's close enough to whisper to.

Arya shoots her a sheepish smile, "Honestly? I just didn't think you were still into him so I thought it wouldn't matter."

"I'm not into him," she replied quickly, and a little defensively. "I just didn't think I'm at that age where people I know already has kids."

"Sure, that's why." Arya commented disbelievingly, which Sansa completely ignores.

  
\----

  
_It only took Sansa a short moment to see Arya smirking smugly at her before she starts to worry. Usually, that means her little sister is up to something, and more often than not, it means she's going to be a target. It's how it is._

_"I figured it_ _out," Arya stated in a smug tone._

_"Figured what out?" Sansa asked tentatively, trying to prepare herself for whatever this is._

_When it comes to Arya, she has two simple techniques to dismiss her in the most satisfying way - the way that Arya's smirk gets wiped off her face entirely - and she's gauging her sister's expression to judge which technique to use for this specific occassion._

_"I figured out why you're suddenly so interested in hanging out with us," Arya filled in, her smirk growing wider by the second. "You like Jon."_

_"Of course I like Jon," she replied automatically, forcing a tone of dismissal in her voice. "He's by far the most decent friend Robb has."_

_She's really good at deflecting so she doesn't lie outright. She's got this._

_"No, you like like him," Arya insisted knowingly._

_"Sure I do," she said, making herself sound sarcastic, and even rolls her eyes for good measure. Again, she's not lying, she's just using a different tone to mislead Arya._

_But it still doesn't work, and her sister just shrugged._

_"I'm just saying, I'm Jon's friend so I can help you if you want," she stated nonchalantly and leaves Sansa with no room to further sway her on her belief._


	4. In The Name of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think I ever apologized,” he blurted out, feeling so much worse as he voiced it out. He could’ve done it in person – he should’ve done it in person.
> 
> “What?” Her voice is laced with sleep and confusion and he realized even more that calling her may not have been the brightest idea.
> 
> He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking that he might as well go on with it now that he’s done it. “Before. I – uh, I never apologized before,” he said, probably not making much sense but he pushes through. “I should’ve reached out to you. Called your or e-mailed or whatever, I should’ve done one of those things. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I did not expect to take this long in updating but I went through a 'small' crisis while applying for Film School - I was really stressed out, couldn't even finish my application essay for days. It sucked. Anyway, crisis is over and I'm back, so I hope you guys enjoy this! :)

Over the course of his life, people would tell Jon that he knows nothing. He disagrees. He may not know everything but he does know _some_ things – including the fact that Sansa is purposely ignoring him.

He noticed it early during the party, how she deliberately keeps herself occupied before he could get in a second with her. At first, he figured she’s just busy catching up with everybody else and he didn’t really mind – they had plenty of time to talk. She’s staying, after all. But as the night progressed, it was starting to get more obvious that she’s doing it on purpose.

Honestly, thinking about it is why he’s still awake this late into the night – or, actually, early in the morning. He turned in his bed, careful not to wake Willem up. He’d gone into Jon’s room just a couple hours ago, hands wiping away the tears as he cried about a bad dream. He doesn’t get them as often anymore but Willem has always had an active imagination that just makes his dreams worse. Jon had let him into the bed, like he always would when it happens, and slowly his son had gone back to sleep.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wishes he could get some sleep himself but ever since coming home from the Starks’, his mind had been occupied. He can’t stop thinking of Sansa, of what he could’ve possibly done to make her angry. Hard as he thinks about it, he just can’t come up with anything.

It’s been eight years since they’d last spoken; he doubts he could’ve done anything terrible in all that time. The last time they talked -

Fuck. Of course. The last time they talked was a few months after they’d both moved out of Winterfell. He doesn’t remember the details specifically but he knows it’s his fault that their communication stopped. That’s it, that’s probably why she’s avoiding him.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and slowly got out bed, tiptoeing towards the bedroom door until he’s closed it behind him and he’s in the clear. He doesn’t want to wake Willem up. He sat on the couch, opening his phone to scroll through his contacts, his fingers hovering over Sansa’s name when he finds it. He could remember the many times he’d done so before, willing himself to call her and never getting anywhere. He should’ve called her then, should’ve checked on how she was doing, but every time he thought to do it, he’d stop himself.

He stared at her name on his phone; hers was the first number he ever saved on the first phone he bought. If he was being honest, he’d bought a phone just so he could talk to her – his time with her just never felt enough. His mom was constantly amused at how quickly he moved to grab his phone each time it vibrated. Sometimes she teased him too. But it didn’t matter to Jon, every time he saw Sansa’s name pop up on his home screen he’d light up like a Christmas tree.

With a deep breath, he tapped on her name and brought the phone to his ear. The ringing made his hear speed up – in anticipation or fear, he’s not sure. Maybe both. He doesn’t know why he thinks this is a good idea but it felt like it.

“Hello?” Sansa says on the other line, picking up after the fourth ring. He held his breath at the sound of her voice. It reminds him of all their light night phone calls during their first few months of being outside, all the shared homesickness and loneliness. The two of them left Winterfell around the same time and even though they were so far from each other, it was a relief to have someone feel the same sort of loneliness he felt.

“Jon?“ The sound of her voice gets him out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat.

“I don’t think I ever apologized,” he blurted out, feeling so much worse as he voiced it out. He could’ve done it in person – he _should’ve_ done it in person.

“What?” Her voice is laced with sleep and confusion and he realized even more that calling her may not have been the brightest idea.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, thinking that he might as well go on with it now that he’s done it. “Before. I – uh, I never apologized before,” he said, probably not making much sense but he pushes through. “I should’ve reached out to you. Called your or e-mailed or whatever, I should’ve done one of those things. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She’s quiet on the other line, which starts to make him anxious. He chewed on his lip as he awaited her reply, wishing he could tell what she’s thinking. He used to be good at that. Finally, after a short bout of silence, she finally spoke. “It goes both ways, Jon,” she said, sounding a little strange. “I could’ve called just as much as you could.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, curious now. “Why didn’t you?”

He did think about that sometimes, when he wondered about her. He used to do it often - fantasize about what could’ve been if he wasn’t such a coward and told her how he felt.

“Life got in the way,” she said, and it’s exactly what happened with him too. Overtime, thoughts of her – and everyone else he loved - got buried somewhere in the back of his mind where he couldn’t reach. “Jon, you do realize it’s 4am, right? Are you drunk or something? I didn’t see you drinking at the party.”

“Oh shit,” He winced, glancing at his wall clock to confirm the time.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking – I just, you were avoiding me so I figured I must’ve done something wrong. I didn’t mean to wake you at an odd hour.”

She sounded a little amused when she replied, “It’s fine, Jon. I don’t sleep well anyway.” Then after a pause she says, “You didn’t do anything wrong, by the way.”

“Really?” he asked, unconvinced.

“Yes, really,” she confirmed. Somehow sensing that isn’t enough to ease Jon’s worries, she adds, “I didn’t realize I was doing it until you’ve left and Robb pointed it out. I didn’t mean to ignore you, honestly, I just – I didn’t know how to approach you.”

He could understand that. The only reason he didn’t make too much of an effort to talk to her during the party is because he didn’t know how, either. It’s been so long since he’d seen her that she feels almost like a stranger.

He furrowed his brows in thought, “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

“Uh – yeah, I think so,” she said, sounding taken aback. “why?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could catch up.” Jon figured it’s not a bad idea; he’d like to get to know her again, if that’s a possibility. “We can be friends again, right?”

He’s not under the illusion that somehow, over the course or eight years with complete radio silence, that they’re still friends. Maybe in spirit – maybe in a way that if anyone asked, he’d say ‘yes’ without any hesitation, but isn’t as true as he’d like to believe.

While everybody else in their friend group maintained contact with her in the last few years, he hasn’t. Gods, he hasn’t had contact with any of them until he came back.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, voice a little hopeful. Or maybe Jon’s just projecting. He really wants to get to know her again.

 

\----

 

_Jon touched his head gingerly, hissing in pain when his finger makes contact with a sensitive spot. He wishes so badly that Robb hadn’t talked him into going to that goddamn party, but as always, Robb had successfully talked him into it._

_He turned sideways to glare at Robb, which he could only assume looks at least a little intimidating considering the blood all over his face. He doesn’t really like getting into fights, the complete opposite of Robb, who, despite his calm nature, could get tempted into a fight if you said the right thing. Jon assumed he had more self-control than that – until tonight._

_Ramsay Bolton definitely knew the right things to say._

_Sansa entered the kitchen carrying a first aid kit, wearing an aggravated expression on her face. Robb snorted softly beside him, standing up from the stool he’s sitting on._

_“I’m gonna go wash up,” he said loudly, directing a smug smirk at Jon._

_He rolled his eyes in automatic response, serving only to make his head throb. He ignored this though, following Robb with a glare as he made his way out of the kitchen. He’d been smug all the way from the Glover’s to their house. Though thankfully, he only laughed in amusement every few minutes and didn’t say anything embarrassing, what with Sansa in the back seat._

_If Jon had followed his instincts, he’d be home right now. That was initially his plan, anyway. He hasn’t enjoyed a day off in weeks – each time he still had a project to finish or an exam to study for – Robb’s pitch is that, summer starts in a week so he’d have much more free time than he used to._

_Plus._

_‘Plus, a certain sister of mine would be there, if you’re interested.’ Because of course Robb would use Sansa to get Jon to do something. He turned his attention to her then, watching quietly as she took the spot that her brother just vacated. She grabbed the ice pack he’d dropped on the counter just moments before and eased it back onto his mouth, giving him a pointed look. She’s not happy with him._

_“You know, doing idiotic things is something people usually expect from Robb, not you,” she pointed out softly, grabbing one of his hands to hold the ice pack._

_She doesn’t ask why he did what he did but he knows there’s an underlying question from what she’d said. He shrugged. “Ramsay’s an asshole, he got it coming.”_

_“No arguments there.” She began cleaning up the cut on his forehead gingerly, her attention fully on her task while his attention was fully on her. He swallowed, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “That doesn’t really explain why you did it, though.”_

_He could feel her breath against his skin – she was that close, and he can feel his heart starting to beat rapidly at such a small distance, his mind thinking a hundred thoughts a second - including the fact that if he moved his head slightly, he could kiss her. He shut his eyes suddenly, willing the thought away. This is not really how he wants that to happen, if it happens._

_With a sigh, he says, “You were there, San. You heard the things he said.”_

_Things he said about you, he wanted to say, but he figured it’s implied. Who the hell did Ramsay think he was to talk about Sansa like that – Gods, just the thought of that asshole saying Sansa’s name made Jon’s blood boil. The look on his face after Jon beat the crap out of him wasn’t even close to satisfying._

_“I see,” Sansa said slowly, her lips quirking up in slight amusement. “So, you were – what? Defending my honor?”_

_Jon could feel himself flush and he’s hoping that his face was enough of a mess for her to not notice. But she seems amused more than anything so he thinks she’s not really that pissed._

_“You’re my friend,” he said simply, feeling his own lips tug up into a smile. “I’d gladly defend your honor any day.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS I think this is the right time to say that the flashbacks aren't sequential. I usually write it depending on a chapter to make sure that it fits the plot. Hope nobody got confused. :D


	5. Two Friends Catching Upp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just two friends hanging out, Sansa,” she reminds herself just as Jon turned his head and saw her.
> 
> She offers him a smile and a short wave and was confused when he suddenly turned around, fumbling with something before turning back around with his necktie off his head. The sheepish expression on his face only makes smile grow, thinking that even after all these years there’s still a trace of the Jon she knew.
> 
> “Hi,” he breathed out as soon as she was close enough. “You look beautiful.”
> 
> “You too,” she said, not completely teasing. The grin that resulted from her comment makes her less embarrassed for blurting it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. I had to re-write this chapter before I was finally satisfied with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

“What are you wearing?” Willem asked with a weary voice as soon he saw his father dressed in, what, Jon will admit, is fancier than what he usually dons for work. It’s not a lot, he doesn’t think, but it is different from his usual attire of shirt and jeans, so it’s not completely a surprise that Willem notices the difference. He looked down on himself, carefully patting his necktie to avoid wrinkling it.

 “Do I look bad?” He asked with a frown, already thinking if there’s an alternative wardrobe to change into that would be better than what he currently has on. Admittedly, he doesn’t have a lot of fancy clothes to choose from. He’d spent most of last night going through his closet to try and see if he has anything nice to wear and only managed to find the blue polo and slacks he’d worn during the Coffee Shop’s reopening. Needless to say, he still feels like he’s lacking.

Willem, in response to his question, shook his head reluctantly, “No, you look fine.” He paused. “Why are you all dressed up?”

He shrugged, overly casual. He’s already told Will that he has plans for lunch today, which is why he’s hanging out with his Aunt Arya in a while, but he didn’t exactly elaborate on it.  “I just thought I’d try something new.”

His son, expectedly, just narrows his eyes suspiciously at his father, obviously not buying it. He started to walk circles around Jon, internalizing his complete get-up before stopping in front of him again. “I don’t believe you,” he stated flatly. “Who are you meeting for lunch?”

“A friend.”

“Which friend?” He asked again, obviously unwilling to let this go.

“Just –” Jon doesn’t have a specific reason why he’s reluctant to admit to Will that he’s having lunch with Sansa. It’s not even a big deal. Still, he sighed stubbornly. “a friend.”

“I know all your friends,” his son reminded him. “and you never dress this well for any of them.”

Jon snorted, rolling his eyes. Well, he got him there. “Alright, alright,” He sighed, rubbing his beard nervously. “I’m having lunch with Sansa.”

Willem raised an eyebrow at him, obviously intrigued. “On a date?”

“It’s not a date,” He corrected.

It really isn’t. Of course, Jon would be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be one but he’d asked Sansa as a friend and he’ll be one. It’s not hard to tell that she’s gone through a lot in King’s Landing. Even if gossip shows and websites didn’t constantly speculate on what happened between her and her ex-fiancee, he would still know that it’s something bad. Reading Sansa is a talent he’s mastered in the years that he’s known her and though he’s out of practice and she’s even better at hiding her emotions than she had been at eighteen, there’s still some things that she can’t hide from him. The mere fact that there is something she’d prefer hidden from everyone makes him want to protect her, to shield her from whatever harm she’s expecting to come her way, but he’d do it as a friend if that’s what she need.

“It’s just two friends catching up,” He added to Willem as an afterthought, shaking his head from the reverie.

“Uh-huh,” Will said disbelievingly. “Whatever you say dad, just -” Will frowned at him, his nose scrunching up in thought. “Try to at least be cool?”

Jon let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head at his son. His son never misses an opportunity to tease his dad about being _uncool_ , despite the fact that almost everyone would tell him that they’re exactly alike.

Satin, one of his employees, is already standing outside the Coffee Shop waiting for them when they arrive, and he takes one look at Jon before asking, “Date?”

He scowled, wondering why everyone, even his seven-year-old, instantly assumes it is. “It’s not a date.”

“Then maybe take off the tie and un-tuck your shirt. Looks more casual that way,” Satin suggested earnestly, not waiting for a response and simply heads inside the shop as soon as the door is opened.

 Jon’s scowl deepens, flattening the necktie on his stomach as he walked towards his office with Willem following shortly behind. He’s pretty sure Sansa’s going to look incredible for lunch, because she usually always is, and she’s also a fashion designer so Jon’s not going to meet her looking so plain. The tie makes him look hot so the tie stays.

 

***  


Sansa rolled her eyes at the screen as she moved to grab the blue sundress Marge requested her to show. “It’s not a date,” she insisted, though she doubts Margaery would actually listen to her. “It’s just two friends catching up.” She placed the dress over her, studying herself in the mirror just as Marge studied her from the camera. “I don’t think this one’s going to work, it’s cold. I’m going to have a coat over it if I wear this.”

“Call it what you will. I still think it’s a date,” Marge said dismissively. “What else do you have?”

Sansa held up the washed up ripped jeans, white shirt and black cardigan combo she prepared last night. She’s going for casual, she wants to look good without seeming like she’s trying too hard and honestly, that’s as casual as she can get for a lunch _event_. Besides, she has the perfect shoes to match – she knows she can work it. When she turned to look at Marge, she’s not surprised at the flat stare her best friend’s giving her.

Margaery’s one of those people who always dress to impress and Sansa thinks she’s a little like that too, but the situation is different. She’s having lunch with Jon and he’s a casual guy, she’s going to look ridiculous if she wears too much – or too little, for that matter – so she’s not going to overdo it. What she has on is nice. It’s comfortable. _Safe_.

“It’s just lunch. I’m going for laid back.” She insisted again, not backing down.

Marge sighed, as if she can’t believe Sansa’s still the worst at this for someone who designs clothes for a living. “Sansa, if this isn’t already a date, wearing that won’t turn it into one.”

She sighed in equal exasperation, dropping the hanger of clothes onto her bed before flopping down her desk chair. It’s not that she doesn’t want to try, she’s just unwilling to set herself up for disappointment. Obviously, she likes Jon – maybe even still has a little crush on him, but the times are different now. Even if she wanted to date him – and yeah, she does, obviously - he’s probably not even looking for a relationship.

“Look, it’s going to be fine, Marge,” she said firmly. It’s Jon, it’s always fun with Jon, whether she’s trying or not. She doesn’t doubt that it’ll be a little awkward, considering how much they’ve missed in each other’s lives, but it’ll all go fine - what she’s wearing is the last thing she should worry about.

So of course, when she comes to meet him for lunch, he’s not dressed casually at all - because that’s her luck, apparently. He’s standing outside the restaurant where they agreed to meet, staring across the street with his hands tucked into his pockets, dressed like he’s ready to pose for a photo any time. In short, he looks unfairly hot and Sansa has to remind herself that even with Margaery’s insistence, _this is not a date._

“It’s just two friends hanging out, Sansa,” she reminds herself just as Jon turned his head and saw her.

She offers him a smile and a short wave and was confused when he suddenly turned around, fumbling with something before turning back around with his necktie off his head. The sheepish expression on his face only makes smile grow, thinking that even after all these years there’s still a trace of the Jon she knew.

“Hi,” he breathed out as soon as she was close enough. “You look beautiful.”

“You too,” she said, not completely teasing. The grin that resulted from her comment makes her less embarrassed for blurting it out. “The tie looked fine, by the way.”

He flushed, ducking his head as he hid the cloth on his back pocket. “Thanks. Um - ” he gave her a sheepish smile. “it’s – uh… work clothes.”

She nodded, already thinking along the same line. Though, despite that, she’s a little annoyed at herself for not listening to Margaery’s advice. Her blue sundress would’ve matched his attire perfectly and if she had worn it, she wouldn’t be feeling underdressed.

Letting go of the thought, she gestured to his ruffled collar, “May I?”

He’s a little confused at first but slowly understood what she meant. “Oh,” he said in realization, moving towards her easily. “sure.”

She reaches a hand to his collar, straightening it. She’d like to pretend that what she does next is deliberate, it definitely seems like something Marge would tell her to do, but in truth, her hands just started moving before her mind could catch up and before she knows it, she’s unbuttoning the first two buttons of his polo.

“It looks better that way,” she said with a forced casual tone, trying to hide her embarrassment. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her to do something like that. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Uh, thanks,” he said with a grin. “I’m not really good with this kind of stuff.“

She lets herself grin back at him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Once they’re settled into a table and finished placing their order to one of the staff, it’s easy to slip into conversation. Admittedly, it’s the conversation aspect of meeting with Jon that she’s been dreading. A lot has happened to her since leaving Winterfell and most of it are things she’d rather not talk about, so she’d been worried about what to say should their conversation drift onto sensitive territory.

Fortunately, Jon is Jon and without having to ask him, he knows to keep the conversation on himself. He tells her about the seven years he lived in Queenscrown and all she’s missed since their contact with each other stopped. He tells her about his Uncle Benjen who took him in after he moved, tells her about studying there and meeting new people. He tells her about meeting Willem’s mom, Ygritte - getting together with her and deciding to marry her after she got pregnant with Will.

 _“I was nineteen and fancied myself in love,” he admitted lightly. “So I figured it was the next logical step.”_ He tells her about the first few years of their marriage and how hard they’d both tried to make it work for their son, how they realized they weren’t helping anybody with how much they fought and disagreed on everything and decided to part ways.

He tells her about juggling work, school and Willem in order to finish his degree, how he always planned on going home after that so he could open up his own restaurant in Winterfell and how, in a stroke of luck, bumped into his old boss while on his way home.

“He mentioned that he was looking to sell the shop so he could come back home to Bear Island,” Jon said with a reminiscent smile. “And I just knew that it’s a sign for me to go back home.”

Sansa couldn’t remove the smile on her own face as she listened to him relay the last eight years of his life to her. She would think about him sometimes, wondering how he is and if he’d accomplished his dreams. She always thought that the bad things that happened to her was caused by her turning her back on her home to pursue her dreams, and she would often wish that Jon would go through none of the bad things she had. Let her have all the bad luck if it means he’s happy, he deserves it after all.

Not once does he ask her about her own journey south, but she could tell that he’s curious. She does tell him some of it, the good parts of it, the parts that she could look back on without feeling vile rise up her throat. She focuses on telling him about her work and how she and Margaery decided to start Styrell Fashions after a year of aimlessly floating around in the fashion industry. Even some aspects of the story are unsavory, especially because she met Margaery while interning under Cersei, but the proud smile on Jon’s lips as she continued to tell him all about her job makes remembering the bad parts seem worth it.

“I had a nice time,” she told him once they’re out of the restaurant, minutes from parting ways.

“Me too,” he said with a smile, glancing at the street contemplatively before turning to her again. “Can I walk you home?”

She does a good job of hiding the fact that his offer makes her heart flutter as she returns his smile. “You don’t have to,” she told him. “I’m actually off to Arya’s, we made plans for tonight.”

“What a coincidence, I’m headed there too.” His smile broadens when he sees the surprise on her face and he really isn’t good for her mental health. “She’s watching Will for me.”

“Oh, well then I guess we can walk there together,” she agreed.

They walk in companionable silence on their way to Arya’s. There are still a lot of things they should talk about, she knows, but at the moment, it just feels right to simply walk with him next to her in complete silence, feeling safe and contented.

When they get to Arya’s, she could tell that her sister’s amused at the sight of them together. She’d mentioned that she’s meeting Jon for lunch and endured the teasing that came her way. Thankfully, her sister was polite enough to hold off on the teasing in Jon’s presence.

“Will, fix your things, your dad’s here,” Arya shouted inside before looking at the both of them. “Have fun?”

She heads inside without a reply, deciding not to give her sister an opportunity to make fun of her and made her way over to the living room. There she found Willem sitting on the floor while coloring something on a notebook perched on the coffee table.

“You’re too early dad,” he said distractedly. “How was your date?”

Sansa stopped walking in surprise, feeling heat rush up her face as the word ‘date’ echoed in her mind. It isn’t actually a date, is it? She’s pretty sure she remembers Jon specifically telling her that he’d like to be _friends_ again. She’s going to be really pissed at herself if she mistook this for a friend thing, she could’ve dressed better, for fuck’s sake.

Her silence gets Willem to turn to her in surprise. “Oh, hey Sansa. I thought you were dad,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “How was lunch?”

Slowly, a smile formed on her face, noticing how he deliberately changed his former statement. There’s something there – but she wouldn’t dare hope.

“It was fun,” she told him with an easy smile, making her way over to sit next to him and see what he’s doing. To her surprise, he’s drawing. She didn’t realize that he loved to draw but it pleases her a little, knowing that there’s something they have in common.

“What are you drawing?” she asked curiously. The drawing is a little scattered but it looks oddly familiar to her, like she’d seen it somewhere before.

To answer her question, Willem handed her a book. “I’m trying to draw my favorite book but it’s so hard,” he complained with a heavy sigh, though Sansa’s attention is no longer on him.

Her eyes settle on the book Will just handed her, _‘A Prince That Was Promised’_ is etched on top of the cover with the familiar drawing of a man riding a dragon while holding a flaming sword just below it. She should’ve realized that it’s why he loves dragons in the first place, but it didn’t click.

She swallowed thickly, letting her hand roam over the book carefully. It’s a little worn out, an evidence that it’s been read a lot. That thought makes her smile as she slowly opened the book to the back. She already knows what she’ll see before she turns it open and just as expected, on the bottom of the back cover is her name, written in her own cursive script.

 

\---

_“What’s this for?” Jon asked, turning the book over to scan the covers before looking back at her. She thought it was obvious that she’s giving it to him but the confusion on his face tells her that it’s apparently not._

_“So you’d have something to read while you travel,” she explained with a dramatic sigh._

_“But - ” he blinks at her, as if uncomprehending. “It’s your favorite book.”_

_She rolled her eyes, though she’s secretly pleased that he knows. Now she can imagine that every time he opens the book, he’ll think of her and remember that it’s her favorite. “I can get another one, Jon. Just take it.”_

_“Oh, right,” he said, giving her a slow smile. “Thank you, Sansa.”_

_He opens the door wider for her, a signal for her to come in. She does so with a smile, which is gone as soon as she sees how bare his apartment looks. She knows that most of his belongings has already been shipped to his Uncle Benjen in Queenscrown but still, the sight of his home looking so empty tugs at her heart. Not that she has any reason to be heartbroken that he’s leaving, it’s not like she’d be staying for much longer either._

_Her own belongings have already been packed in preparation to her travel but most of it are just clothes and some new stuff she bought with her mom so that her dorm room would be more comfortable, which means her room is still completely intact. It’s why it only just sinks in, looking at Jon’s apartment so empty, that so much is about to change._

_Tomorrow he’s leaving Winterfell, and in a week, so will she._


	6. The Fifteen Year Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dad, why aren’t you with anyone?” He’d asked over breakfast, just as Jon was mid-drink. It’s as if his son intended him to choke on his coffee, caught off guard as he was with the question.
> 
> “What?” He coughed out, wiping the liquid off his mouth with the back of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My classes start tomorrow so of course I decided to write all day instead of preparing for it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. :)

In the years following his divorce, Jon hasn’t really thought much about dating. He knows that he should be more invested in it than he actually is. He’s only twenty-six after all, there’s plenty of opportunity to find someone to be with but, honestly, he doesn’t care too much about finding love.

He’s gone on dates a few times before, just for the sake of showing people that he’s _trying_. But no one his age is interested in getting involved with someone who has a ready-made family, and he’d be offended if he didn’t completely understand. It’s not easy, raising a kid, and it’s a lot to ask anyone to commit to. Willem is his responsibility, and he can’t just expect a person he dates to carry half the weight with him, so he doesn’t even consider the possibility.

Sansa coming back into his life doesn’t change his view on the matter, exactly, but it does make him realize how fucking incredible it would be if she wanted to be with him. In the weeks following his lunch with her, it seems like everything just slipped into place. Suddenly, they’re inseparable again, back into each other’s lives like they never left. They’re not back to how they were before, not really, but it’s impossible for anything to be like before, and he thinks that now is way better that what they had. She’s a part of his life again, and a part of Will’s too, because Sansa, incredibly enough, loves them both.

He knows he’s an asshole for even entertaining the idea of being with her romantically, and for letting himself love every moment of seeing her interact with his kid, but he can’t help it. She’s Sansa Stark, he’s still undeniably in love with her even with all the years that stretched between them, so of course he can’t stop himself from giving meaning to every little thing she does for him and his son.

Of course, none of this escapes their friends, all of whom bore witness to his hopeless crush on her in his youth. There’s even something funny about it too, he thinks. Seeing Arya and Robb and Theon exchange looks like they think i _t’s so obvious_ is honestly amusing, and it makes him hopeful too, because those looks aren’t just for him, it’s for him _and_ Sansa both.

“What did I tell you?” Robb said smugly, patting Jon on the back as though he’s done something incredible, which is inaccurate considering the fact that they were just talking about how great it is to have Sansa back home again. Jon could tell by Robb’s smug tone that he’s leading the conversation elsewhere. “It’s a fifteen year plan.”

Jon scowled as soon as he hears it, knowing where the turn in conversation is going. He knows about the ‘fifteen year plan’ and remembers how mercilessly his friends teased him about how long it’s taking him to ask Sansa out. To be fair, he did tell them he had a plan of doing so, but he was too much of a coward to push through with it, and so they turned from being supportive to teasing him about it.

Theon snorted as soon as he hears Robb’s statement, shaking his head. “The fifteen year plan to dating Sansa Stark,” he recalled. It’s what they called it. “It used to be a joke but now I totally see it happening.”

His friends are assholes, honestly.

They’re over at Robb’s, because out of any of them, he has the nicest pad. All of them getting together to hang out is already rare since they all have demanding jobs now, and Jon being in attendance is much rarer, but Robb has always known the magic word to get him to come to these things – Jon apparently hasn’t grown out of it, and so there he was, drinking with his friends as he unsubtly waited for the reason he’s there in the first place.

He glanced quickly at Willem as his friends continued to tease him. His son’s playing Mario Kart with Rickon in the living room, and he hopes that Will’s not hearing any of this. Jon doesn’t really need to give his son more proof of his romantic incompetence. Just the other day, he already broached the topic of his love life.

“Dad, why aren’t you with anyone?” He’d asked over breakfast, just as Jon was mid-drink. It’s as if his son intended him to choke on his coffee, caught off guard as he was with the question.

“What?” He coughed out, wiping the liquid off his mouth with the back of his hand.

His son sounds casual enough, like he’s asking just to satisfy his curiosity, but even so, it makes Jon feel a little uneasy. He could just tell Will the truth, of course, which is that he’s not really looking for anyone, but it feels like he should say more than that. It feels like his answer should depend on what Willem wants to hear. Honestly, he’s not sure what to do - this isn’t something he’s read in any of his parenting books.

“Why do you ask?” He asked tentatively, taking in his son’s expression.

He shrugged. “I just think you’d be happier if you had someone. If you’re not alone - ” He paused thoughtfully, looking back at him. “I mean – you’re not alone. You have me and Uncle Robb and Grandpa Ned and Aunt Arya and -” He huffed, evidently frustrated that he can’t get his message across. Jon thinks he understands though, at least a little. “I’m just saying that you should have someone like Uncle Sam has Aunt Gilly.”

“I am happy,” He assured; he’s not sure why his son thinks he needs to be _happier_. The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him so he goes on. “I’m not with anyone because I haven’t found the right person yet.”  He doubts this makes any sense to Will, but it’s the best way Jon could explain it.

“What if - ” Will worries his lip nervously, as if he’s almost afraid to say what he’s about to. “What if you’ve found her and you’re just scared?” Jon gives him a strange look, surprised with his statement. His son can’t be that perceptive, can he? “Aunt Arya said you were in love with Sansa.”

He blew out a big breath and shut his eyes. He’s going to kill Arya for telling his kid about that, seriously. “Will, don’t - ” He cut himself off, he was about to say that he shouldn’t believe what Arya said. He’d be an asshole to say it, especially since she wasn’t exactly lying. He just wishes she didn’t say anything at all.

“Don’t be mad at her, though,” Will said suddenly. “I asked her about it.” Jon raised an eyebrow in inquiry, signaling for him to press on. He gave a sheepish smile, “You just seem so excited when Sansa’s around. And sort of a mess too.”

The vibration of his phone takes him out of his thoughts. He fished the phone out of his pocket easily, muting out the rest of the conversation his friends are having at his expense as he checked his messages.

 **Sansa**  
hey i’m omw  
am i missing out on anything fun?

The grin that blooms on his face at the sight of her name on his phone is embarrassing, so he’s thankful that his friends are too busy making fun of him to notice. He looks up to make sure that none of them did notice and catches his son looking at him curiously. Jon knows that he _knows_ and tries to put on a straight face to at least keep up the pretense of being subtle and fails at It completely, if the aggravated shake of Will’s head is any indication.

 **Jon**  
not really  
just a bunch of nerds pretending to be cool

 **Sansa**  
look who’s talking

He barked out a laugh, catching himself _almost_ immediately. When he looks up to check if anybody noticed this time, the conversation has ceased, and all of his friends are looking at him in amusement, eyebrows raised knowingly.

Robb’s the first to speak, looking smug as hell that Jon rolls his eyes before his friend even opens his mouth, “Fifteen years, I’m telling you.”

When Sansa does arrive, all the teasing mattered even _less_. He’s really not willing to distance himself from her just to avoid more of the knowing looks and snorts coming his way. He knows he’s in love with her, literally everyone in the room, if not the whole of Winterfell, has known for years, so there’s really nothing he can do about it aside from just doing what he wants.

“I can’t believe we’re actually playing monopoly,” Sansa muttered next to him, sounding amused. “while drunk.”

He snorted, looking sideways to give her a grin. He nods to the direction of her younger brothers, “I feel sorrier for Bran and Rickon, they’re playing this sober.”

That makes her laugh, and of course it’s followed by knowing eye rolls and snickers from their friends. He ignores it though, even Arya’s, “that wasn’t even funny,” comment to Robb. All Jon cares about at that moment is seeing the smile on Sansa’s face and being the one who put it there.

And yeah, he’s so fucking in love with her that it’s almost unbearable.

 

\---

_“Sorry I’m late,” Jon apologized breathlessly, sliding into the backseat of Robb’s car as quickly as he could. He paused when he saw Arya next to him, raising an eyebrow curiously at her. Last he checked, their mom didn’t allow her to tag along so he didn’t expect her to be here. “Did your mom finally give in?”_

_“No, I just asked dad,” she said with a satisfied grin, leaning back into the seat happily. Jon huffed out a laugh, of course she did._

_“Where the hell have you been, man?” Robb asked as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You weren’t answering your phone.”_

_Jon would’ve lied. Except that there’s no other explanation he can come up with for that question other than the truth. “I turned it off, sorry.” Seeming unsatisfied with that answer, he sighed. “I was at the cinema.”_

_Theon came alive then, leaning forward to look at him from where he’s sitting next to Arya. “With who?”_

_“Uh,” he said, preparing himself for the onslaught of teasing remarks about to come his way. There’s only one reaction to his admission he can anticipate from his friends and he’s not exactly excited for it. “There was this movie Sansa -”_

_Before he could even finish, all of them had started talking over the other._

_“Oh, for fuck’s sake -”_

_“Snow, you’re fucking pathetic!”_

_“- can’t you just ask her out?”_

_There’s more in it, but Jon couldn’t really make out much more than that – not that he tried hard enough. Thankfully, Jeyne Westerling, Robb’s girlfriend who’s also sitting shotgun shuts them all up. “Guys, give Jon a break.”_

_“Oh, Jeyne. You’re no fun,” Arya complained when they all abruptly stopped talking over the other. “Making fun of Jon is going to be the highlight of this road trip.”_

_“Ignore them Jeyne,” he said gratefully, leaning over to give her a smile. “You’re officially my favorite person in this car.”_

_“Okay, but seriously,” Robb said, looking at him in exasperation. “You’re going on platonic movie dates with Sansa now?”_

_Jon scowled, “It’s not a date.”_

_“But are you ever going to ask her for one?” Arya asked pointedly._

_“I’m working on it,” he said, a little defensive._

_Robb snorted, “Ask her out in fifteen years, maybe.”_


	7. Honorary Starks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How's that going, by the way?"
> 
> "I don't know what you're talking about," Sansa denied, suddenly more interested in her pizza than the conversation.
> 
> Arya snorted, clearly not buying it. "I'm asking about the whole, 'I'm so in love with Jon I want to marry him but I can't figure out how,' thing you got going."

Sansa stifled a smile as she glanced at her sister standing right beside her, breathing heavily from exhaustion.

"I can't believe this takes so much work," Arya mumbled, fanning herself with the collar of her v-neck.

They're standing inside Sansa's office on the second floor of her rented out commercial space. Or, well, what would be her office, once they're done arranging it.

For now it's still just a room with stuff she and Arya have yet to unbox.

"Because fashion stores just spring up out of nowhere?" Sansa asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow at her sister.

"No, because you asked for my help. I didn't think it would be this much." Arya gestured to the boxes "Aren't you supposed to be rich? Isn't Styrell a huge brand, well known all over Westeros and beyond or whatever? Couldn't you afford to hire people to do this stuff for you?"

Sansa smiled at her sister then. "I could afford it if I wanted," she grants, kneeling to open one of the boxes closest to her.

"And you don't?" Arya asked her strangely.

"Styrell started with just Margaery and I, you know," she explained, putting out the unassembled parts of a desk she ordered online a week ago. "So we did all the work."

At the beginning, Styrell Fashions was only an online blog, just a place where she and Margaery can vent about the fashion industry and share some of their insights.

They didn't plan for it to be an actual fashion store, though they had hoped to open one someday, when they've gained more experience and credibility.

It's really just about their personal experiences as aspiring designers, so they were both surprised when it became an online hit.

For some reason people were interested in what they wrote and visited their page more often, sometimes leaving sympathetic comments or sharing their own experiences or some even asking for fashion tips.

That's when they started adding different features on the blog. If you needed any fashion advice, from deciding what to wear and where you can buy them to how to make clothes, Styrell is the website you go to find out.

Then, testing the waters, they started selling retail. When they saw that people were actually buying the stuff they put on their page, they started adding their own personal designs.

Within a year Styrell fashions was a legitimate thing, an actual business that they could live off of without having to keep their day jobs.

It was all so crazy and overwhelming that sometimes Sansa still thinks it's a dream. But if it was, it's a good dream, a part of her life in the past few years that she doesn't mind keeping.

"We used to do most of it from our apartment," she said with a reminiscent smile.

As it was an online store, they did most of the work from a computer, not including the actual production part of their own items.

The first time someone asked them to design something, it was for a wedding. The person messaged them online asking if they could make suits and dresses for the entire wedding party at a cheap price.

They'd been elated, immediately accepting the offer without realizing how hard it would actually be. They got the job done somehow, despite not having much manpower and machinery.

When they'd featured that into their blog, more started calling to inquire about their designs.and before they knew it, they've rented out a small commercial space in the Red Keep, hired a decent number of staff and were making clothes full-time.

"I know it's silly but that was probably my favorite part of it all," Sansa admitted. "Starting from scratch and seeing it grow from there. Styrell is so big now I barely have to lift a finger if I wanted."

She's glad, of course. She wanted Styrell to be a success, and it is. From what began as a mere blog is now an international fashion brand.

It's always been her and Marge's dream since meeting as interns under Cersei Lannister and now it's come into fruitition - without any help from their 'mentor', by the way, who scathingly told them, and often, that they're not for the fashion industry.

"It's not silly. I get it," Arya told her earnestly, crouching down to tear the tape off one of the boxes and grabbing the item on top. "Where do we put this thing, then? I assume you're feeding me after."

Sansa grinned at her sister, honeslty glad that they've grown out of the anymosity between them from their childhood.

It wasn't easy, treating each other like enemies. They never did understand each other as children, so they couldn't get along. They still don't understand each other, in some ways, but now they've come to appreciate their differences as strengths where it's the other's weakness.

"Let's start assembling the desk first," Sansa suggested. "And yeah, food's on me."

They actually do a good job decorating Sansa's office. They've assembled the desk, the coffee table and they've arranged most of the other furniture in just under six hours.

It's amazing how easy it was working with her sister. They still bickered a lot about where to put what, as is their default, but it's the good kind of bickering. The kind where, at the end of each argument, they could come to an agreement.

And the office turns out looking great, if she does say so herself. It's a space where Sansa can imagine herself working in comfortably.

"When do you plan to fix downstairs?" Arya asked, flopping down on the hideous bean bag she insisted Sansa to buy.

"All our equipments gets shipped in a week," Sansa said, already calculating the number of days it would take to arrange the interior. A month, maybe, at which point all the permits would've been processed and they're good to open. "Margaery's coming in a week as well, along with some of our staff, so you don't have to help out if you don't want but food is still on me if you do."

If Arya notices the hopefulness in her voice, she doesn't let on.

The truth of it is that Sansa had missed her sister more than she ever expected she would when she first left Winterfell. Arya was never one to shy from telling her the harsh truth, and its spmething she longed for while living in a city where people never mean what they say.

But more than that, she just missed her little sister. They bickered a lot, yes, but underneath all that they do love each other. Coming back home makes it feels like she has to make up for lost time.

"I don't mind helping," Arya said, meeting her eyes tentatively. Slowly, a smile bloomed on her face, "this is fun, isn't it?"

They order pizza after they're finished, as Arya requested, and they settled on the bean bags with the pizza on the newly assembled coffee table, chatting about anything under the sun.

When Sansa mentions that they could probably start a little later the next day, Arya gives her a weird look.

"Wait, we're done?" She asked, fishing her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "It's just a little after three, we still have time to do more."

Sansa winced, remembering that she hasn't mentioned that she had plans for the afternoon.

Catching on, Arya raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing that's more important than fixing your office?" With a smirk, she added, "Or who?"

"Shut up," Sansa said, without heat, throwing a piece of pineapple at her sister. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to all the teasing about Jon. She didn't use to get teased about that. "You're an asshole."

Arya laughed, swatting the pineapple away before it hits. "How's that going, by the way?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sansa denied, suddenly more interested in her pizza than the conversation.

Arya snorted, clearly not buying it. "I'm asking about the whole, 'I'm so in love with Jon I want to marry him but I can't figure out how,' thing you got going."

Sansa scowled but decided not to dignify it with a worded response.

"Honestly though, San, what's stopping you?"

Sansa frowned, genuinely clueless now with the sudden turn in conversation. Her sister's looking at her like ahe should know what it's about but she doesn't. "What do you mean?"

"What's stopping you from making a move on Jon," Arya clarified, like that makes any sense. "You know he's never going to do it, right? He thinks he's being noble or some shit - he thinks he'll be unfair to you if he does - "

"Arya. Wait, what are you - what?" Sansa was at a loss for word, her mind swirling in a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What are you trying to say?"

"That you're both ridiculous. Seriously. All the mutual pining? It's getting sad to watch," Arya said in aggravation. "If it wasn't already miserable years ago."

_Mutual._

Sansa doesn't say anything to that. Honeslty what could she have said? She can barely even wrap her head around Arya's statement. Still, she does put in extra effort to study Jon when they meet for ice cream with Willem, just to see if what Arya said had any merit.

The problem is, the more she paid him attention the less she actually saw.

See, she has a trick. If she wants to keep her sanity, then she won't let herself look straight at Jon for long, especially when they're out in public, or when they're with company.

Looking at his face is a little painful, she just wants to grab it and kiss him senseless - which woudn't be the best idea if he doesn't want her to. The only only thing she lets uerself look at are his eyes, because it would be rude not to, and even that's not good for her mental health. He has a way of looking at her like she's the only thing he sees and it's really not helping when she's trying so hard to function properly around him.

The smart thing to do is avoid him until she figures out how to shut off her feelings, but eight years and several messy relationships hasn't done anything to get rid of it so she doubts anything would work, at this point.

Fuck, she can't think about all this right now. _Damn it, Arya._

She turned to look at Willem instead, donning a serene smile on her face.

"Hey, your burthday's coming up, isn't it?" She asked, her smile melting into a much warmer and genuine one. "What do you guys have planned?"

In truth, she already knew the answer to the question. She and Jon had talked at length about this weeks ago.

Though talk is probably putting it lightly. She spent hours assuring Jon through a phone call that lasted for hours, that he's not a bad dad just because his seven-year-old doesn't want to have a huge celebration.

Willem is a lot like Jon, reserved and mostly quiet, preferring solitude more often not. But Jon doesn't see it that way, he thinks he's not doing enough to get his kid to be more socially active with people his age.

Sansa does get that part. Will, in the four or so months that she's known him, hasn't mentioned a lot of friends. But he will talk about his dad's friends; his Uncle Sam, Uncle Grenn and Uncle Pyp. A man named Tormund. His mom and her fiancee, Mance. And now, he'd enthusiastically talk about all his other uncles, Robb, Bran and Rickon. And his Aunt Arya.

The only kid his age he's told her about is someone he calls Little Sam, but according to Jon they moved to Oldtown a couple months before he and Will moved to Winterfell, so he probably hasn't seen Little Sam in over a year.  
  
She understands why Jon would be worried. Will doesn't have close friends, at least not ones that live in Winterfell - but Will's not a shy kid, either, she's known that since he first came up to her and basically criticized her work upon first meeting. He's also talkative, especially when it's about something he's passionate about. So really Sansa thinks he just prefers less company, like Jon used to.

Sansa remembers him being prickly when in a crowd but with just Robb or Arya - or her, once they became friends - he was fine. More comfortable and relaxed. And there's nothing wrong with that, some people just prefer little company. Like father, like son.

It sounded more like Jon having an emotional meltdown than an actual issue about Will's social skills, to be honest. That's to say that she's not convinced that it's an actual issue.

But still, whether it's a problem or not, Jon's still going to worry, so the least Sansa can do is help alleviate some of his worries.

"Just dinner," said Willem nonchalantly, like he hasn't given it much thought.

"Oh?" She asked lightly. "You don't want a party?"

He wrinkled his nose, "my classmate Garrett had a party at the park on his birthday, I don't like that many people. There were like... hundreds!."

Sansa smiled, "Your aunt Arya didn't like that either, when she was a kid. She used to just treat her friends to the arcade. You don't want something like that?"

"Well... there is something I want..." He trailed off thoughtfully, like he's thinking about whether to tell her or not. "I want to be King Jaehaerys for my birthday. And ride a dragon."

He says it the zame time Jon comes over to their table carrying a tray with their ice cream on it and she looks up at hm with an amused grin.

 _Well,_ she thought. _She did ask what he wanted._

She maybe should've guessed it, considering how fond he is of the story. And she thinks they could probably make it work.

She asks Will what else he'd want for a hypothetical party wherein he's King Jaehaerys and he says that's all, so yeah. Just the riding a dragon part would be tricky but Sansa can probably find a way around that. It's going to be fun.

Starks are big on celebrations and Will's basically an honorary Stark, so he's going to get his wish. She'll make sure of it.

"Okay?" She asked Jon on the walk home, Willem a few steps ahead of them, far enough not to hear.

Sometimes, she feels like she's overstepping some boundaries. It's just so easy to fall into their lives, almost like she's really a part of it. But that makes her feel guilty too, like she shouldn't be so invested. Like she's not supposed to, somehow, because she's in love with Jon.

It's hard to explain because even she can't make sense of any of it herself. Feelings are so damn confusing.

Jon blew out a big breath, looking almost incredulous. "I'm more than okay, San," he said in awe. "That was - thank you."

She's about to say that she doesn't have to but he cuts her off. "I know you're already planning it in your head, so I do have to thank you. But you don't have to do it. I can -"

She waves it off, "we can plan it together so you don't have to feel guilty. I do want to do it, you know I love organizing parties."

He snorted, "yeah, I know."

He would. Before leaving Winterfell she organized a farewell party for herself - and Jon, though he insisted that he didn't want one - and arranged it on the night before he's set to move to Queenscrown, so he'd have one more fun memory of home before he leaves.

 

\----

  
_Sansa stepped out through the front door, following after Jon. Instantly, she's hit with the cool breeze, and when she shuts the door behind her, the mixture of music and loud conversations from the on-going party inside gets muffled, making her ears ring in the sudden silence._

_Jon turned to look at her, not surprised that she followed him. He's already said his goodbyes to all of them before he ducked out, telling them that he's heading out warly tomorrow with his Uncle Benjen, so he has to go home to get some sleep._

_It's understandable, but he couldn't have expected her to let him leave without a proper goodbye._

_They're headed to places so far from each other. Who knows how long it'll be before they see each other again? Maybe over the summer, if she gets a week off before her internship, but that's still a year away._

_"What time do you leavre?" She asked, breaking the silence._

_He tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head at her. "Early. Uncle Benjen wants us to leave before light so I can settle in early in Queenscrown." He chewed on his lip, regarding her thoughtfully. "You've packed?"_

_She nodded, though they've already had this same conversation hours prior, when she came over to his apartment so they could come head to the party together._

_"You're going to call, right?" She asked. She doesn't think they've ever actually called each other, they usually just text but now they're going to have to get used to it._

_Jon gives her a warm smile, raising his arm to tuck her into him. She leans into it, her hands finding his waist without thought._

_It should be weird, how comfortable she is with him, how easily she leans into his touch. But it isn't, and she thinks it's for the same reason why she fits so perfectly in his arms. They're meant to be. He just hasn't figured it out yet._

_"I'm gonna call you at all random hours throughout the day," he promised, placing a light kiss on the side of her head. "You might even get annoyed."_

_She shook her head, "never."_

_He busted out laughing at that, making her smile. She's always annoyed with him, and him with her, so she probably will get annoyed with him at some point, but not for the reason he pointed out._

_Gods she's going to miss him so much. She twisted in his arms so she could hug him, nuzzling his neck._

_"I'm going to miss you," she whispered into his skin, burying her face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in._

_"I miss you already," he replied, making her laugh despite herself._

_He's the worst with words, she knows because she tried to teach him to talk to girls, but it's in these moments when he doesn't even realize it that he says the perfect things._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a little sister bonding bc that's what I didn't get from 7x05, though I expected it. Also, sorry for taking so long to update, haven't had much inspiration to do so lately.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Every Little Thing She Does is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a little scary when you're set on something, you know that?"
> 
> She smirked, "are you saying you're scared of me?"
> 
> He nodded, smiling now. "Terrified."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" by Sleeping at Last.
> 
> I don't think I've mentioned it, but thank you all so much for reading this fic. It means a lot to me. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

Jon read the list Sansa handed him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. He doesn't understand why half the stuff on the list is even on there but it's such a Sansa thing for her to have a long ass list of things to do for a children's party that's still a month away that he can't help but smile.

He'd assumed that they wouldn't start planning until maybe a week before Will's actual birthday, as he'd always done, but apparetly not.  
  
"So, why exactly do we need all this?" He asked, one hand holding the list and the other pushing their cart, trailing after Sansa as they roamed the _hardware_ store.

While he's struggling to figure out what all the stuff is for, and what they're even doing at a freaking hardware store for a kid party, she's already walking several paces ahead of him, like she has everything figured out.

He chuckled at the thought, shaking his head as he quickened his pace to catch up to her. Just like always.

"We need it to build the dragon," she answered as she placed an item on the cart.

Jon paused for a second, blinking at her in confusion. The... what?

"Dragon?" He finally asked when it didn't seem like she's going to explain. "You're building a dragon?"

"Sort of. Will wants to ride a dragon, remember?" She said, like it's just like baking a cake or something.

"You're making him a dragon." It comes out flat, but Jon is genuinely a little baffled. Who does this kind of thing, really? "Sansa, you - "

"Don't have to do this," she finished for him, rolling her eyes "Jon, I know. You don't have to keep telling me. I can probably have this conversation by myself at this point." She turned to look at him seriously. "I do want to do this, though. You've got a great kid."

"I get that and I'm honestly grateful that you're going through the trouble but - " he blew out a big breath, a little in awe. "A dragon? Seriously?"

She shrugged, like it's no big thing, and he's compelled to add, "you don't even like dragons."

He distinctly remember her going on long rants about her favorite book, 'A Prince That Was Promised', specifically about how dragons aren't as cool as people thought it was.

She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, like she's pleased that he remembered. But of course he remembers, there's nothing about her that he could ever forget, even if he did try.  
  
"It's not my party. Besides, Will won't be into this stuff forever so if he wants to ride a dragon, why shouldn't I make it happen?"

Jon doesn't have an answer to that so he just decided not to argue with her anymore. It's not like this is a bad thing. He gets to hang out with her, he gets to help make his son happy - none of this is bad.

He just. Fuck, he doesn't want to get used to this. He doesn't want to get a taste of how great it could be with Sansa, only to have it taken from him once she finds someone to be with and dote on.

 _It doesn't have to come to that_ , he could almost hear Robb Saying. _You could just tell her how you feel and see what happens._

Easier said than done, he thought with a scoff. It's not like things are that simple. He can't just ask Sansa to be with him and risk ruining so many things.

He shakes the thought off, deciding not to think about it.

He turned to her. "Okay. So, how exactly do you plan to make a dragon?"

She smiled, evidently glad that he's finally asking rhe right questions. "i thought you'd never ask."

And she tells him the plan as they went through the hardware to check off the items on their list.

Apparently, Arya knows a guy who can make a mechanical chair that imitates how a dragon would fly, and then after, Sansa would design the chair to make it look like an actual dragon.

As for the flying part, Sansa's friend's brother - if he remembered correctly - who does the photography for their Styrell events knows how to make VR videos - for that VR glasses thing that, to be honest, he's only heard of from Willem, and the guy's going to make one that would look like Willem's actually flying around Winterfell on top of a dragon.  
'  
It's a little astounding, just how much Sansa's thought this whole thing through. "You're a little scary when you're set on something, you know that?"

She smirked, "are you saying you're scared of me?"

He nodded, smiling now. "Terrified." And she doesn't know just how much he actually means it.

He's always been terrified of her, in a way. She's just always been so sure of what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it.

Even when they were younger she already had her mind set on a goal - to be a fashion designer - and she planned everything she needed to do in order to achieve it, and then there he was, just always trying to catch up to her and constantly terrified that he never would.

That's what kept him from truly going after her. He didn't just want to date her, he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. But he had to _deserve_ to be with her first. To do that, he needed to get his shit together.

He had a plan. He was going to get himself through college, start his own restaurant, and when he's in a good enough position in his life, he's going to tell her how he's always felt.

There was always that possibility that she wouldn't return his feelings, or that she'd be in love with someone else by the time he works up the courage, but he always assumed that if he's meant to be with her, then things will work out.

It's a silly thing to believe in for someone who grew up learning that love doesn't pave the way for anything. That it makes more problems than it solves.

His mother and father loved each other, but that didn't mean they were doing the right thing.

His mother always said that his father was a loving man, but what loving man would hurt his own wife and children to be with another woman. Then to leave rhat woman and his son like they didn't matter. Jon doesn't know the answer to that.  
  
What he does know is that love is a messy business and he really should've known better than to fall for the trick, but he kept believing in it anyway.

"Robb," he said a little anxiously on his phone. It's just a little after Will's bedtime and he assumes his best friend was looking forward to a relaxing evening after work and he'd just ruined it. "Robb, I think I want to tell Sansa."

"Tell Sansa what?" He asked on the other line, voice a bit muffled, like he's eating or something.

Jon rolled his eyes. Serioisly, for someone who's been nagging him to ask Sansa out, he's slow on getting there.

"Tell Sansa how I feel."

Robb coughed, "oh yeah? Go tell her then, what the fuck are you doing calling me? Do tou need a sitter or - "

"I didn't mean right now," he cut off, laughing a little. "I need to do something nice for her first, a romantic gesture of some sort."

"Seven hells, just tell her. She's probably been waiting for this moment since her pre-teens. Seriously, she wouldn't care about the gesture."

"You don't know that," he said instantly. "Besides, Sansa liked that kind of thing, you know? I want to do it for her."

 

\-----

  
_Jon's clearing one of the tables when he hears the name._

_Sansa Stark._

_Immediately his head whips to the television, the channel on a gossip show that nobody but Pyp likes watching._

_He grabs the tray of dirty dishes, staring at the television. "Hey Pyp, turn the volume up, will ya?"_

_It's still a little early, just the start of his shift, and there's not much people at the bar so he could probably get away with watching for a moment._

_Pyp does as told, his attention now on the television too, trying to see what got Jon's attention._

_"... now dating singer and heartthrob, Joffrey Baratheon." Jon scoffed, but listens anyway. "The two met at CLB where Sansa wae an intern under Joffrey's mother - fashion designer, Cersei Lannister."_

_"Got a serious thing for redheads, huh," Grenn cut in, patting him on the back just as a picture of Sansa popped up on the screen. "Sansa Stark's out of your league, though, don't you think?"_

_jon groaned internally, thinking just how right Grenn was. "She's just pretty, is all." He lied._

_She's more than that, though. But it's a secret he'd like to keep for himself._


	9. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How unobservant do you have to be to not notice that?" Arya asked Robb one day, aggravated.
> 
> "Notice what?" Robb asked, a little distracted from the game he's playing on his xbox.
> 
> Arya rolled her eyes. Gods, she's known about it since she was eleven, how has nobody else noticed?
> 
> "Jon's heart eyes for Sansa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arya POV no one asked for.
> 
> Fun little fact, this fic was originally meant to be a oneshot from Arya's POV, so obviously I couldn't help but write a chapter from her perspective.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

Arya's only eleven when she figures it all out, and there's something so incredibly amusing about watching her older sister keep herself from flailing whenever Robb so much as mumble Jon's name, that Arya made a conscious effort not to tease her sister about it.

Sansa's crush on Jon was subtle, at first. Or maybe Arya just wasn't paying it much mind. But then she noticed a pattern and slowly started keeping an eye.

The first thing she noticed was that Sansa would change into something pretty whenever Robb announces that his friends are coming over.

It didn't instantly click that she was doing it for Jon - because for one, Robb had many friends. And for two, Arya was only eleven and was still adverse to the whole romance thing, so it didn't make much of a sense to her.

But who else could it have been, really? Not Theon, he annoyed the shit out of Sansa, still does, honestly. Could've been Cley, but he was a little on the obnoxious side and Sansa didn't like that. Or maybe Larence or Gawen or any of Robb's other friends, except --

Well, it's always Jon her longing gaze lands on - never for more than a couple of seconds, but Arya could tell that Sansa's always hyper-aware of any movement he makes.

It's three years before it got really irritating to not have someone else to complain to. Her younger brothers didn't care and Robb is unobservant as shit and none of Arya's friends really cared about her sister's lovelife.

She's not sure, exactly, why she herself cares, but at some point since figuring it all out, she's become invested. Quietly, of course. Rooting for them on the sidelines.

Still, it doesn't mean it's fun watching them tiptoe around each other like idiots - so at fourteen, she breaks.

"How unobservant do you have to be to not notice that?" Arya asked Robb one day, aggravated.

She takes the seat next to him, the one Jon just vacated moments ago when Sansa came home and his attention turned completely on her.

They're getting food in the kitchen now or - well, whatever excuse they just made to get a few seconds alone together this time.

"Notice what?" Robb asked, a little distracted from the game he's playing on his xbox.

Arya rolled her eyes. Gods, she's known about it since she was eleven, how has nobody else noticed?

"Jon's heart eyes for Sansa."

Robb falters in his game, turning sharply on her. On the other side of the couch, Theon snorts, eyes still on the game, completely unfazed.

"To be fair," Arya adds before Robb goes dramatic as is customary. "Sansa has heart eyes for him too."

Robb blinked, his expression melting into one of understanding and then a smile breaks out on his face.

"Huh," he mused. "That explains so much."

And so she wasn't alone anymore, and at fifteen they made _the bet_ , borne of exasperation from the whole thing.

"I bet you five bucks Sansa will get tired of waiting and make the first move," Arya declared one day, watching Jon and Sansa through the blinds.

They're right outside, and Jon probably walked her home from the coffee shop he works at. Sansa goes there all the time and she doesn't even like coffee much. Obviously they all know it's for Jon, but she'd never fess up to it. Ridiculous.

She turns to Robb, watching him consider her claims thoughtfully. There's a frown on his face, and Arya can tell that he agrees with her -Sansa's more likely to make the first move, she's already easing into it - but her older brother bets against her on principle.

"Alright, I'll take that bet," Robb agreed with a grin, making her eyes narrow. "Five bucks says Jon beats her to it."

"We're not allowed to intervene," Arya cut in before agreeing because she knows her brother well. "It's rule number one."

They don't make a lot of rules, just a few to make sure that they won't be overstepping boundaries - well, none more than usual.

It's all fairly harmless, and it would ensure that Jon and Sansa end up happy together regardless of who wins the bet. If anything, the courting process would speed up with their help; just a little nudge to the right direction here and there.

 _Easy money_ , Arya thinks as she shook hands with her older brother.

But almost a decade has passed since she made the damned bet with Robb and nothing has changed aside from the fact that the pining just isn't funny anymore. At this point, Arya might actually cry if she has to watch any more of it.

 _Gods, how can they still not know?_ She asked herself miserably as she watched them moon at each other from across the room.

They're over at the Styrell House, as they've all taken to calling it since Sansa and her friends moved in. it's literally what it is. Sansa moved into the house about two days ago once her friends arrived in Winterfell and now they're sort of having a welcoming party for them.

Sansa's friends all seem very nice; Arya's heard a lot about them from her. Margaery's the best friend of seven years and Styrell business partner. Myranda Royce she met while working as a costume designer,. Mya is the roommate from college, now Styrell's Social Media liaison and everything else tech-related. And then there's her brother, Gendry Waters. He's Styrell's official photographer, which is about all Arya can say about him.

It's a big fat lie, of course. But for all she gives both her sister and Jon shit for their romantic incompetence, she's not really much better about crushes herself.

She can at least recognize that a crush is definitely what's going on here. There's no other explanation why she finds herself staring at Gendry's big blue eyes for so damn long.

"Are they always like that?" He approaches her later to ask. "They were supposed to be telling me what they want for that video Sansa asked me to make and - " he gestured to the two idiots, completely unaware that the person they're speaking to left them, too busy with their flirting ritual. "They just forgot I was there."

"Was he making his stupid jokes?" She asked. She definitely saw Sansa laughing a few times and Jon's corny jokes is usually the cue before they slip into their own little world.

"Oh," Gendry said with a confused frown. "That's what it was?" He turned to her sheepishly, "I didn't get it."

She snorted, taking a swig at her beer. "Nobody does. They're ridiculous, right?"

"It's a little cute," he admits, to Arya's surprise. Catching her expression, he adds, "I've never seen your sister that -- at ease. With anyone. It's nice to see."

Arya turns to look at Jon and Sansa, a smile slipping into place despite her best efforts to stop it from appearing. It's just -- they've always been like that together that sometimes it's so easy to forget that they've both been through a lot. That their lives wasn't always this easy and simple.

"They make each other happy," she agrees a little distractedly. Realizing how sappy she's being about the whole thing, she switches gears, "We actually have a bet going on about who will make the first move - want in on it?"

Gendry seems to be thinking about it seriously, and all Arya can do is try not to stare too long into his eyes. It's just so damn blue.

"I don't know Jon much so I'd have to say Sansa," he finally says." She's the kind of person who takes matters into her own hands."

Arya, of course, bursts out laughing. "That's what I thought too," she says smugly. "When I was fifteen."

Gendry's eyes widened in surprise, "That long? Seriously?" He turns to them, disbelieving. "How have they not figured it out?"

She smiles because she has the exact same sentiments. She's liking this Gendry a lot.

"I ask myself the same question everyday," she says solemnly. "Which is sad, if you think about it. No one should be this invested in that level of incompetence."

Which is why it's such a surprise when Sansa comes over to her place one night and says, "I'm in love with Jon."

Evidently, Sansa expects her to be surprised, as though Arya hasn't been saying the same thing since Sansa got back home.

"Okay," is what she says. "What are you - what do you want from me here? I already know that, you don't have to tell me."

"I want you to tell me to snap out if it," she declares.

"Why would I do that?" Arya asked incredulously. Like that's going to happen.

"Because he's obviously not interested and I need to snap out of it."

"Now that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Arya declared. "Obviously not interested," She muttered with a scowl." In what world is Jon not stupidly in love with her sister? "Do you not hear us when we say you're both idiots in love?"

Sansa opens her mouth and shuts it again. Obviously she knows that they all think they're in love with each other, but she's a Stark, so of couse she's going to be stubborn about it.

"Look, if you want my opinion, here it is: If you're in love with Jon, go to him and tell him. Stop wasting time pining away when you could just be happy and making out with him like you obviously want to. You've got nothing to lose, trust me.

"I mean, I don't see the appeal, but -- whatever floats your boat."

Sansa seems to be really considering it, which is a win enough for Arya. Honestly, anything to just get them to talk about it and spare the rest of them from more pining is a win.

Two days later, she's over at Robb's for dinner, with Theon coming over after his work, and obviously the conversation turns to the inevitable.

"I hope you got your five bucks ready," Robb said smugly, pointing at her.

It's been clear for days now that both Jon and Sansa have decided to tell the other about their feelings, and as it turns out, it's more unbearable than the pining.

There are moments, ones that feel like the other's going to blurt it out but then decide against it, and the rest of them are just biting their tongues to keep from spilling it out themselves.

Seriously, it's like they want to keep people on their toes. There are bragging rights riding on their confession, _gods_.

"I hope you have your five bucks ready," she repeats, mockingly. "I'm winning that bet."

Robb laughs. "We'll see about that."

And so they shall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back to our regularly scheduled program next chapter. One of them will finally fess up to it 
> 
> Watch out! :D


	10. Draw me a Path to Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She takes the piece of paper on the bottom, her jaw falling in surprise. "You kept it?"
> 
> Her voice is incredulous as she eyed the drawing in astonishment. It's of Florian the Fool, the details on his face and clothes a lot less sharp in contrast to her style now, but there's no doubt who drew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only ever write this fic when I feel happy (or hopeful) and I haven't been that for a while, so I'm sorry for the delay.
> 
> On a more positive note, I've gotten some good news a few days ago and was inspired to write so I hope you guys enjoy this! :D

 

Sansa chewed on her lips skeptically as she studied her sketch design. It looks good; she'd designed enough costumes from the Dragon era that she's got the historical accuracy pinned down but that's not exactly her biggest worry with this project.

She raised her sketch pad for Jon to see, watching him nervously as he turned his attention from the television to what she's showing him.

"What do you think?"

She wouldn't normally ask his opinion on a design. He doesn't know anything about fashion, though he dresses himself well enough, and he knows even less about historical fashion - but her whole excuse for hanging out with him today is needing his opinion on something, so she might as well get his input.

Besides, he may not be a fashion expert, but he would know if his son will like it or not.

It's a sketch for a Jaehaerys costume, like Will wanted. Sansa doesn't really have a lot to go on with it, there's no canonical design to follow, so she's mostly creating it from her knowledge of the books and knowledge of history - but all that is useless if the seven-year-old meant to wear it doesn't like it.

And knowing Willem, he will have opinions. The thought almost makes her smile, thinking of the little boy who's almost as quiet as his father but with a tongue as sharp as Arya's.

She refocuses her attention on Jon, watching him with trepidation. There's a strange expression on his face as he studied her sketch, which makes her nervous even as he finally tells her that, "it looks incredible."

"Yeah?" She asked, unconvinced. "You think so? It doesn't seem like you do..."

His expression turns into one of disbelief, eyeing her incredulously. "Don't like it? It's amazing," he assured, bumping his shoulder against hers reassuringly. "I was just -- um, well, I thought maybe you could give it to me?" He paused, thoughtful. "Once you don't need it anymore, I mean."

"The drawing?" She asked, confused now.

He nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, maybe you'd give it to me after? I'd like to keep it."

"Keep it?" She repeats questioningly. She still can't figure out the strange expression on his face but she's less worried now and more curious. "What for?"

"It's just something I do," he explained quietly, his smile shy and cheeks flushing as he spoke. "I like collecting your drawings."

 _Collecting her drawings..?_ "What do you mean?" She asked, deciding that she can't just keep repeating everything he says.

She's not sure she follows the conversation, though.

Technically, it's not that hard to understand. He wants to have the drawing, it's not that ambiguous a request, and it isn't the first time he's asked this of her. He'd asked the same thing years and years ago, and the thought of it makes her even more curious.

"You know," he said in explanation, with an awkward wave of his hand as though she should know. "The drawings -- Florian the Fool? Ghost? Jaehaerys -- " he laughed nervously, catching her confusion. "Alright, give me a sec."

She frowned when he stood up, watching as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Since Willem's out with Arya and Rickon today, it's just her and Jon at the apartment, so she's left waiting for him as he did whatever it is he's doing and with no Willem to distract her from her nerves.

There hasn't been a lot of opportunities to be alone with Jon, which isn't really a problem for her - she likes spending time with Willem just as much - but it leaves her unprepared for how nervous she is now.

As she waited for him to come back, she remembers her conversation with her sister some days ago.

Arya's right. The longer she considers it, the clearer it is that there's no reason for her not to tell Jon how she feels.

She knows that it could ruin things between them if he doesn't feel the same way but she'd made enough bad decisions in her life to know that she owed it to herself to be sure this time.

She can't let herself keep living in uncertainty, always wondering _what if,_ only to be disappointed in the end when it turns out that she was wrong.

Of course, it's more likely that Jon doesn't feel the same way, and it'd crush her, but at least she'd know for definite.

 _Well, who knows? Maybe he loves you too,_ the insistant part of her heart presses on.

Before her mind could argue back, Jon is back on the couch with her, holding a thin but wide wooden box to her.

"Open it," he tells her, nodding encouragingly as she took it from him.

She looked at him curiously before turning her attention fully on the antique sitting flat on her lap.

At first, the contents of it doesn't make sense to her. It's a collection of different pieces of paper, its colors yellowing in varying degrees, and it isn't until she spots a penciled sketch to realize what it is she's looking at.

She takes the piece of paper on the bottom, her jaw falling in surprise. "You kept it?"

Her voice is incredulous as she eyed the drawing in astonishment. It's of Florian the Fool, the details on his face and clothes a lot less sharp in contrast to her style now, but there's no doubt who drew it.

She must've been -- what? Thirteen? Fourteen? She's not sure when she drew it, but she knows its hers; even remembers why she gave it to him.

She made it out to look like him, actually, giving Florian the same somber expression and same dark and messy set of curls that Jon used to parade around when he didn't put his hair up in a bun.

She dug through the box further, curious of what else she'd find in there. She'd given him more that one drawing, she knows, and she finds them all there. The one of Jaehaerys with his dog, Ghost. One of just Ghost. More of Florian with Jonquil next to him. There's even one of Jenny of Oldstones and Prince Duncan and -

She raised an old piece of receipt with a Bear's Bean logo printed clearly on top. There's a drawing on the back of it, of what is meant to be Jon with his curly hair tucked underneath the black sun visor as he manned the register at the shop.

The drawing has faded now and if she didn't draw it herself she probably wouldn't have understood it in its current state, but she didn't even know that Jon had seen it. Or that he kept it.

She looked at him questioningly, quietly waiting for an explanation.

He laughed a little, the sound coming out nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "I - uh -- I thought it was cute."

She studies him now, sees the slight flush to his cheeks going all the way down to his v-neck and beyond, catches the way he's looking at anywhere but her and how could she have missed it in all these years?

How is it that it took this - seeing her drawings that Jon has accumulated and kept safely throughout the years - for her to figure out exactly what she should do?

She leaned into him without thought or precaution, and finds that she needn't have worried because he's as eager to kiss her, their mouths meeting each other in the middle in equal fervor.

Somehow it feels natural; as hough they've done this a million times before, like it's all they know to do - but this is the first time she's kissing Jon and gods does it make her heart want to explode.

She's wanted to kiss him for far longer than she's willing to admit and she finds that it's even better than how she always imagined it. His lips are soft and relenting against hers, and he tastes like freshly brewed coffee.

She's never been fond of the thing despite how much she drinks it, but the way it tastes on Jon's tongue is enough to change her mind. Maybe she does like coffee, after all.

When they come up for air, she's somehow on his lap, the wooden box and her drawings lay scattered on the floor, and his hair is a mess of curls falling on his face the way she likes it.

They're staring at each other now, both breathing heavily as they grinned idiotically at each other.

"That was..." he began, shaking his head incredulously. "Fucking insane."

All she could do is laugh, her thumb tracing the line of his now swollen lips. She can't quite believe what just happened but she has the same exact sentiments as him.

"That's not how I imagined our first kiss would go." He took her hand from his face, lacing their fingers together before dragging it up to his lips to plant a kiss on the back of her hand.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her heart picking up at the thought that he'd imagined the prospect too.

"And how did you imagine it?" She asked him, a teasing tone to her voice.

"Many different ways, actually," he told her a little distractedly, making a work of planting kisses on the palm of her hand.

When he stopped with his attentions, he smiled at her, tucking a loose strand of hair to the back of her ear as he continued to speak. "It would've been on a saturday. I would've already asked you out on a date," he told her, his smile once again turning shy. "I'd be all dressed up and carrying flowers - " he laughed a little. "Blue winter roses because they're your favorite, and then, um... we'd drive to Torrhen's Square, go to that museum you used to like. For dinner, we'll eat at that diner just outside of Winterfell that we used to go to -- Aly's, remember?"

She nodded and pressed her lips to his quickly before he could keep talking.

"I think it sounds perfect, but -- " she gives him a mischievous smile. "You don't have to do all that to kiss me."

"I want to, though," he tells her with a soft smile. "I want to romance you."

She laughed at that and rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Still." His smile turns into a grin. "What do you say, Sansa Stark, do you want go out with me?"

"More than you know."

 

\----

  
_All throughout the day, all Sansa could think of was Jon - of Jon asking out Val like they'd practiced yesterday._

_She knows it was coming at some point since that's why he started hanging out with her in the first place. She told herself that she will be okay with it but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck._

_She never had a chance against Val anyway. Val is awesome; she could relate to Jon and his friends, she's always hanging around them, and they were all the same grade._

_She's smart, too, and excelled in sports. All the teachers loved her and she was popular with other students. Even Arya seems to find her amazing, trailing after the girl like she was a god or something._

_Val is immensely different from Sansa and she found herself jealous, despite how badly she didn't want to be. It's not a nice feeling and she hates it but it's not really something she can control._

_It just sucks that no matter how hard she tries, Jon won't ever like her. She's just Robb's little sister to him and soon enough Val would be his girlfriend like he's been telling her._

_She scoffed at the thought, slamming her books on the table angrily before jamming it into her bag._

_Life is so unfair sometimes. Why can't Jon just like her instead?_

 


End file.
